FreezeFrame
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! An undercover modeling asignment exposes sabotage and murder.
1. Chapter 1

"Take a deep breath and show me those pearly whites," ordered a tall thin dark-skinned man of Joe Hardy as he snapped off another round of film.

Joe was seventeen years old with blond hair and blue eyes. His six foot athletic frame was straining to remain still. He had been posing for Artie Winfield, the photographer for Sebastian Demar, the European clothes designer, for well over four hours and he was hot, tired, and sick of smiling when he could think of nothing about this predicament that made him happy.

"Okay, that's it for today," Artie declared twenty minutes later. "Frank, take this film to Beverly," he instructed the brown headed, brown eyed, six foot one Frank Hardy. Frank took the film, shot his year younger brother a sympathetic smile and left to find the woman in charge of developing the film.

"Artie's tough!" Paul Wisenthorpe commented after Artie had walked away.

"Yeah, but he's the best photographer in the business," added Danny Donaldson.

Joe looked at his two fellow models. Both were his age with the same basic features except Danny had green eyes and Paul's hair was a darker shade of blond than Joe's and Danny's. The three boys had been modeling skin-tight jeans and form fitting shirts which were included in Sebastian Demar's new fall line.

"Maybe he's too tough," Joe commented, thinking about why he was there in the first place. Two models had vanished in the last two weeks without a trace. Both had been working for Sebastian Demar and both had been subjected to Artie's sharp tongue and grueling expectations.

"What do you mean?" Paul demanded.

"Well, I heard Troy and Jeff took off because of him," Joe said, fishing for information.

"No way!" Danny denied with a strong shake of his head. "Troy and Artie got pretty close. They even hung out together after some of the shoots."

"Then why did he take off?" Joe queried, tilting his head sideways.

"Maybe he had no choice," Paul answered. "There's been some things going on around here."

"What kind of things?" asked Joe, looking intently at Paul. He had already heard about someone trying to steal Demar's designs and the attempt to torch the building housing the first few completed originals of the new season.

"The phone calls for one thing," Danny said.

"What phone calls?" Joe asked, his forehead wrinkling in thought. Their client hadn't mentioned anything about them.

"Troy started getting phone calls before he disappeared," Paul said. "He said they were really annoying."

"What were they about?" Joe pushed.

"I don't know," Paul admitted. "Troy didn't say. As a mater of fact, after he told me about them, his face turned white and he refused to talk to me for the rest of the day. After the shoot, he headed for the hotel and that's the last time I saw him."

"Did Jeff get any calls?" Joe asked.

Paul shrugged. "Jeff didn't talk much. To us anyway. He always acted like he thought he was better than us."

"After that work-out, I'm surprised you three are still here," Kenny Parsons said, coming over to Joe, Paul, and Danny. Kenny was five foot eleven with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. At twenty-two years old, he had already attained status as Demar's assistant. "Go and get some rest," he ordered them.

Paul and Danny said their goodbyes and left. "I've been wondering how you became Demar's assistant?" Joe asked Kenny. "I've heard he's a hard man to be around but you seem so easy-going."

Kenny shrugged his shoulders and pushed a lock of blond hair out of his eyes. "You have to be easy-going to work for Demar," he responded. "I got lucky," he continued. "Demar was at a party I attended where I was wearing one of my own designs. He loved it! We got to talking and before long, he was offering me this job. It was too good to pass up." Kenny ended his tale with a good-natured laugh.

"You look hungry," Kenny said to Joe. "Come on, I'll buy you dinner." He and Joe headed outside, passing Frank on his way back from Beverly's office.

"Frank," Kenny said. "Joe and I are going out for dinner. Be a dear and tell Artie I'll stop by around tenish to go over the photos." Not waiting for Frank's reply, Kenny walked on.

"I guess I'll be home before tenish," Joe quickly quipped to Frank in a whisper before hurrying to catch up with Kenny.

Frank went over to Artie and relayed Kenny's message. "Ten?" Artie shouted. "Ridiculous! Beverly won't have finished with the photos by then. Mr. Parsons," Artie spat the name with disgust, "will just have to wait."

"He seems like a nice guy," Frank said, helping Artie take down his equipment.

"Never judge a subject by his picture," Artie told Frank. "The camera, in the hands of a master, can tell some big lies."

"Do you photograph anything besides models?" Frank asked him.

"Never," Artie answered. "This is my specialty. Why do you ask?" his brown eyes boring into Frank's.

"It's what you said," Frank explained. "You said not to judge a subject by its picture. I would have thought you would have said a person by his picture."

"I do not take pictures of people," Artie said a bit harshly. "All those models are nothing more than pieces of flesh to be modeled and shaped." He laughed. "I will grant you, it is harder to mold some than others, but once they are in front of a camera, they are all putty."

"Do you have a favorite, uh, subject, to work with?" Frank asked him.

"Not really," Artie answered. "Of course, Troy Spencer was the most intelligent subject I've ever worked with."

"What made him special?" Frank inquired, folding the camera's tripod.

"He wanted out of modeling. He told me he hated being in front of a camera but figured it was the only way to break into the business. He wanted to be a photographer. He asked to be my assistant but he lacked experience. I did agree to give him pointers though. Troy really absorbed information. I only had to tell him something once and he knew it."

"What about that new model in today's shoot? Joe Hendricks? His bio said he was an amateur photographer," Frank stated, talking about his brother.

"He will never be a great model," Artie said with disgust. "Like Troy and Jeff, his heart is not in it. He will most likely go running off like they did."

"Artie!" a voice interrupted their conversation. "I need you to look at some designs. I can't decide if tomorrow's shoot should be at the park or the fairgrounds," Sebastian Demar said. Demar was a short, balding man with a large black mustache and beady brown eyes. He was dressed in blue jeans and a light gray tee shirt. Seeing him, no one would believe he was one of the world's best designers.

Artie nodded. "Frank, finish up here. Be sure and lock up," he instructed before following Demar from the studio and back to the main office.

Frank finished curling the carpets and set them up near the back of the studio with the others. Then he placed the lenses inside their cabinet and locked it. The only thing left was the actual camera. He picked it up and walked over to the cabinet beside the one holding the lenses. He unlocked it and placed the camera inside. He started to close the door when he sensed someone behind him. Before he could turn around, something came crashing down on the back of his head. Frank fell to the ground unconscious. 


	2. Chapter 2

Joe and Kenny arrived at the Seaside Terrace restaurant a little after seven. Kenny ordered a salad, steak, and baked potato. Joe, his stomach growling in protest, ordered a salad with fat free dressing and a plain baked potato. He was definitely going to raid the fridge when he got home. 

"So, how long have you been Demar's assistant?" Joe asked after their waiter had left.

"About two years," Kenny replied. "Listen, the reason I brought you out to dinner is so I could ask you something," he said, changing the subject.

"Ask away," Joe invited, mystified.

"How long have you been a model?" Kenny inquired, although Joe could tell this was just a lead question.

"This is my first real gig," Joe answered truthfully. "But that kind of stuff is in my bio," he added.

"How would you feel about another modeling job?" Kenny asked Joe.

"Great!" Joe gave the appropriate response with enthusiasm. "But don't I have to finish this one first?" he asked. "I think there was something in my contract."

"Oh, there was," Kenny readily admitted with a slick smile. "But since I work for Demar and this job is for me, you wouldn't be breaking your contract," he assured Joe.

Yeah, right, thought Joe. "Sounds great," he said out loud. Kenny was treating him like a dumb jock. Maybe if he just played along he would learn more. "When do I start?"

Kenny smiled at Joe's eagerness. "I'll let you know," he promised. "But it's top secret. Don't mention this to anyone."

"I won't," Joe promised. "Thanks, uh...do I get paid or is this part of my Demar contract?"

"Of course you get paid," Kenny said then named a sum.

"Cool," Joe stated but said no more because the waiter had arrived with their dinner.

"How do you like Artie?" Kenny asked Joe as they ate.

"Harsh," Joe replied honestly. "He kind of makes me feel like I'm not even human."

Kenny nodded. "He has that effect on people."

"Will he be doing the shoot for you?" Joe asked.

"No," Kenny said but did not elaborate. After dinner, they went to Kenny's car. "Shall I drop you off somewhere?" he asked Joe.

"The studio is fine," Joe replied. "My wheels are there."

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Arriving back at the studio, they found an ambulance and a police car on the scene. Joe jumped out of the car and ran over, followed closely by Kenny who hadn't even bothered parking. "What's going on?" Kenny demanded.

Sergeant Con Riley, a man in his mid twenties with curly brown hair and brown eyes turned and looked at the newcomers. He was a friend of the Hardys and immediately assumed they were on a case. "There was an attack in the studio," Con informed them. "The photographer's assistant was knocked unconscious but the paramedics checked him out and he's fine," Con added this last part for Joe's benefit.

"Was anything taken?" Kenny demanded, not caring about Frank.

"Several cameras were stolen," Con informed him stonily, taking an instant dislike to the young man. "Mr. Winfield is doing an extensive inventory now," he added.

"Bother," Kenny murmured and ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Joe, you had better go and get some rest. Circles under the eyes are a no no," he said. "I will go and help Artie," he added, walking away.

"Where's Frank?" Joe asked after Kenny was out of earshot. "Is he really all right?"

"He's fine," Con assured Joe. "He called Chet to come and take him home. What's going on here?" he asked, figuring the theft and attack had something to do with the case the boys were working on.

"Two missing models and sabotage," Joe answered. "That's all we've got so far." He looked at the studio entrance and saw Kenny starting back out. Artie must not have wanted any help, he thought. "I'd better go," He said to Con. "Let us know what you find out?" he asked Con, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.

"Will do," Con promised as Joe took off at a trot toward his van.

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Joe arrived home to have his blond-headed, petite mother, Laura, tell him Frank was okay but she had sent him to bed. Joe talked to his mother about life in front of a camera while she warmed up some fried chicken and apple pie. After eating, Joe cleaned his dishes and kissed his mom good night then went to bed after looking in on his brother and finding him sleeping peacefully.

"Wake-up Joe," he heard the familiar voice. Joe groaned and rolled onto his back, his eyes flying open and sitting up as he remembered what had taken place the night before.

"Are you okay?" Joe asked, not bothering to smother the yawn that accompanied his words.

"I have a world-class headache, but other than that, I'm fine," Frank said with a smile that turned into a grimace of pain. He reached his hand back and gingerly felt the lump on the back of his head.

"Want to stay home?" Joe inquired. "After last night, no one would blame you."

"Nah," Frank replied. "I'm okay. Really," he insisted as Joe raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"What happened?" Joe asked, stretching and then climbing out of bed.

Frank sat down on Joe's bed as he watched Joe rifle through his closet for something to wear. "Someone came into the studio as I was putting Artie's equipment away and slugged me from behind," Frank told him. "I didn't even see him."

"Well, we can cross Kenny off the list of suspects," Joe told him. "Directly, anyway," he amended. "He was with me all evening."

"Speaking of which, did you find out anything?" Frank asked.

Joe told Frank about the "job" offer. "Kenny's up to something. Maybe he asked Troy and Jeff and they threatened to tell Demar," he suggested. "That would be a motive to get rid of them."

"Could be," Frank concurred. "But assuming all the sabotage is connected to the disappearances, who is helping Kenny?"

Joe shrugged and headed into the bathroom to get ready. Twenty minutes later he came into the kitchen where their mother was just taking up the last of some pancakes. "Sit down," she ordered him, smiling. "You probably won't get much to eat until you get home tonight."

"I don't see how they do it," Joe said, sitting down and picking up the maple syrup. "Why would anyone want to starve themselves to have that kind of a job?"

Frank smiled at Joe as he dug into his breakfast with gusto. "Artie said you didn't have the heart for modeling," he told Joe. "What he should have said was you would never have the appetite."

"I don't see you going hungry," Joe kidded Frank as he polished off his pancakes and reached for a banana. Frank just grinned and began peeling it.

"You two be careful," Laura told her sons. "I heard from your father this morning," she added. "He's almost finished and should be home by this weekend."

"Great!" Joe said. "Maybe we can wrap this case up over the next three days and then we can all go camping."

"Hey, that's right," Frank agreed. "Dad did promise a family camping trip when his schedule opened up."

Laura smiled at her sons' enthusiasm. Fenton may not always be around, but he was a good father. "Fenton mentioned the trip on the phone," she told them. "He said something about having it in the Smokies."

After breakfast, Frank took a cab to the studio. He had left his mother's car there the previous evening. Joe didn't have to be there for another hour so he called police headquarters and asked to speak with Con. He knew Con's shift ended at eight am. "What did you find?" Joe asked when Con greeted him from his extension.

"Nothing," was the reply. "Frank's and Winfield's were the only prints on the equipment. There was no sign of forced entry," Con concluded.

"What was taken?" Joe asked.

"Three cameras and twelve lenses," Con replied. "Frank said he had locked the cabinet containing the lenses so that whoever took them had to have had a key."

"Who has keys?" Joe asked.

"Demar wasn't sure," Con told him. "Winfield, Parsons, Crenshaw, Frank and maybe a few others."

"Thanks Con," Joe said. "Keep us posted?" he requested before hanging up. "The photographer, the assistant designer and the developer," Joe said out loud. "Neither of them would need to steal equipment unless Kenny needs the cameras for his shoot. Maybe Beverly Crenshaw is the photographer Kenny's got lined up."

Joe drove to the studio and was told to report to Shelia Masters. She dressed Joe and sent him to join Danny and Paul. The three of them were then driven to the town park for the outdoor shoot.

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Frank had arrived at Demar's offices fifteen minutes early. He wanted to check in with Demar and make sure Artie had stayed with him last night. He didn't think Artie would steal his own equipment but a good detective covered all the bases.

Demar wasn't an easy person to get to know. His answers were usually curt and to the point. His attitude combined with his big mustache strongly reminded Frank of the villain who tied the girl to the tracks. Of course, there the resemblance ended. Demar was, basically, a nice person, if you could handle his eccentricities.

"Sir," Frank said, rapping gently on the half-open door.

Demar looked up. "Come in," he said. "Close it," he ordered Frank as he pushed the door open the rest of the way to enter.

Frank did as he was told then took a seat in front of Demar's desk. "Did Artie leave you at any time before the theft was discovered?" Frank asked.

"No," Demar answered, closing the folder he had been looking at and putting his elbows on the desk and clasping his hands. He put his chin on his hands and looked intently at Frank. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Frank assured him. "Just a headache. Who found me?" he asked.

"Artie and I did," Demar answered. "We had returned to the studio to figure out which props to use in the park. Do you or your brother have any leads?"

"We have a couple of suspects," Frank said. "But we do need to see your personnel files," he added.

Demar got up and walked over to a file cabinet and withdrew a disk. "This contains information on everyone who does or has worked for me this year," he said, handing it over. "I have a back up, but I would still like it returned," he added.

Frank took the disk and stood up. "I'll go over it tonight and bring it back tomorrow," Frank promised. "I'd better get to work," he added, heading toward the door. Demar nodded but said nothing; his attention had already returned to the folder on his desk.

Frank went to the studio and loaded the props needed for the day's shoot then drove with Artie to the park and began setting up the equipment. Joe and the other models would be there soon.

"Can we help?" Frank heard a familiar voice from behind him.

"No," Artie told the two girls who had come up. "You have to leave. This is a private shoot."

"In the park?" demanded the brown-eyed, slender blond, putting her hands on her hips.

"We have a permit," Artie informed her haughtily. "You may stand out of range and watch but you may not interfere."

"Harrumph," Callie snorted.

"You will have to leave," Frank said, walking over and taking the blond, his seventeen year old girlfriend, Callie Shaw, by the arm and pulling gently. Sixteen year old, brown eyed, Iola Morton grinned at her boyfriend's brother and followed him and Callie to a spot roughly thirty yards away. "We're blocking the area off," he told them once they were out of earshot. "No one knows Joe and I know each other," he warned them so they wouldn't blow his and Joe's covers.

"Isn't it too dangerous for you two to be working around here undercover?" Iola asked, worried. "Just about everybody knows you guys."

"No one is going to see me and no one's going to be able to get close enough to Joe to be sure it's him," Frank assured her.

"Why?"

Frank smiled. "He's one of the models," he informed them. Iola's eyes grew wide and Callie burst out laughing as Frank ran back to the van to get the posts and tape to block off the shoot area.

The models arrived just as Frank and Artie finished setting up the lights. By this time, a crowd had formed around the perimeter and the Hardys' other friends, Iola's brother, Chet, Tony Prito, and his girlfriend, Tanya Lane, Biff Hooper and Liz Johnson had joined Iola and Callie.

Everyone watched and gave catcalls as the three good looking teens climbed out of the limousine dressed only in tight fitting latex shorts. Artie placed the three boys on the set but a breeze began to blow and the set kept getting messed up.

"This is ridiculous!" Artie shouted in frustration. "Frank, let's move this to the oak tree over there," he said, pointing to a tree near the Hardys' friends. "If the wind wishes to blow, we will make use of it," he stated. He and Frank moved the lights and boxed up the pieces that kept trying to blow away. Artie then had Danny, Paul, and Joe move over beneath the oak tree.

Half an hour into the shoot the wind had picked up so much that the crowd, except for the Hardys friends, had dispersed. "This isn't working," Artie said after a big gust of wind messed up the models' hair so bad they had to halt the session. "Let's pack it up," he ordered. "We'll try again tomorrow."

Joe arose from the hard ground where he had been sitting and stretched. He heard a loud crack followed by the collective startled intake of breath nixed with screams. He started to turn and see what was wrong but something fell on him from above and he fell to the ground beneath the heavy weight.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ooh," moaned Joe as his friends burst through the tape and rushed over to help. 

Biff, Chet, Tony and Frank lifted the heavy limb off of Joe. "Easy, man," Paul said to Joe, pushing him back gently as Joe started to sit up. "Better make sure there's no serious damage."

"I'm okay," Joe said, starting to sit up again. "Ouch," he said, grabbing his side and wincing in pain.

Paul eased Joe back onto the ground and looked at Artie. "Go and call an ambulance," Artie ordered Frank.

"I've got a cell phone;" Callie said and pulled it out. She dialed 911 as Frank knelt down beside Joe.

"How bad does it hurt?" Frank asked, worry etched on his face.

"It doesn't feel broken," Joe answered. "But it sure does hurt."

"Let me see," Iola said, kneeling beside Joe. "I'm trained in first aid," she told everyone. Iola was a volunteer at Bayport Memorial Hospital. She gingerly felt around Joe's side. "Okay, I'm going to be as easy as I can," she said, looking into his eyes. "Tell me when it hurts."

"Ow!" Joe shouted as Iola touched a particularly tender spot.

"You may have bruised a bone," Iola said.

"A bruise?" Joe asked, wondering if this would kill his undercover job.

"Don't worry, Kid," Artie said, figuring Joe was worried about his modeling. "If the doc says you're okay, we'll keep you in a shirt. No one will notice," he promised, being nice for the first time Joe could remember.

"Thanks," Joe said, smiling at him.

"I'll ride with him to the hospital," Frank said, hearing the ambulance getting closer.

"No. I need your help," Artie told him. "Paul, you ride with Joe and make sure he's okay. Call Kenny when you get to the hospital and he'll take care of everything."

Frank wanted to argue but couldn't without blowing his cover so he nodded his consent and watched as Joe and Paul left with the paramedics.

"I'll go to the hospital and check on Joe and call your mom," Iola whispered.

"Thanks," Frank said, smiling at her. "I'd appreciate it."

Danny rode back to the studio in the limousine while Frank and Artie took down the equipment and boxed it up. Chet and Iola drove to the hospital while the Hardys other friends returned home.

"Mmm," Joe said, gritting his teeth as the doctor felt around his side.

"We'll get it x-rayed," Dr. Bates said to Joe. "But I don't think anything is broken. Who is your friend?" he asked because he had seen Paul arrive with Joe.

"His name is Paul," Joe told him. "Oh, yeah, my name is Joe Hendricks," he added.

"Undercover," Dr, Bates observed, smiling. "Be careful," he added. "I don't want to see you back in here."

"I will be," Joe promised as Iola came into the room wearing her uniform and pushing a wheelchair.

"How are you doing?" she asked, coming over and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"He'll be fine," Dr. Bates answered, smiling at the twosome. "Take him down to X-ray," he ordered, handing her his chart.

"I called your mom," Iola told Joe as they headed for X-ray. "I told her someone came with you and that I would let her know what the doctor says just as soon as we find out."

"Thanks," Joe replied gratefully. "What did you think of the photographer?" he asked her.

"Tough," she answered. "But he seemed genuinely upset when you got hurt," she added. "What kind of case are two working on?"

"Two models have gone missing," Joe informed her. "Plus, there were several cameras stolen last night; a fire before that; and someone tried to steal some designs before they had been put into production."

"That's been bugging me," Iola said. "I thought designs were top secret before a show but you guys were out in a public place."

"Demar designs clothes for the higher priced department stores," Joe explained. "After a design had been purchased it's put into mass production. The clothes we're modeling will already be in the stores by the time the photos hit the media. The designs are only top secret until production starts," he ended as she pushed him into the X-ray department.

"I had to sign up to work today so I could get back here with you," Iola told Joe. "So I've got to leave you here and go do a few other things but I'll be back to take you to Dr. Bates," she promised.

"Sorry," Joe apologized. "I didn't mean to wreck your day off."

"Don't be silly," Iola told him with a smile. "Don't you know by now I'd do anything for you?"

Joe grabbed her hand as she started away and pulled her back and down onto his lap. "Ditto," he whispered and kissed her until someone coughed behind them. Joe turned around and saw a disapproving nurse standing there with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Bye," Iola said and took off. Joe looked sheepishly at the nurse who had just shook her head and wheeled him back for his x-ray.

"How is he?" Kenny demanded, striding into the emergency room about forty minutes later and seeing Paul.

"The doctor is still with him," Paul told him. "He should..." he started to add but at that moment the doors opened and Iola wheeled Joe out.

"Where's the doctor?" Kenny demanded of Iola.

"He's with someone else by now," Joe said. "I'm okay," he added. "I just bruised a bone."

"Let's see," Kenny demanded. Frank had given Joe his jacket to wear before the paramedics had taken him away so Joe unzipped the jacket and let Kenny look. "It doesn't look too bad," Kenny commented, frowning. "Can you still work?" he asked, not seeing the burst of anger that flared in Iola's eyes before she could hide it.

"No prob," Joe responded with a carefree smile.

"Excellent!" Kenny said, relieved. "Hmmm," he added, looking down at Joe quizzically. "I've got it!" he shouted, snapping his fingers, his eyes glowing. "Do you feel well enough to come back to the studio now?"

"Sure," Joe said, although his side was crying out NO!

"I have to wheel him to the car," Iola said, getting a firm grip on the wheelchair handles as Kenny tried to push her aside.

"Fine, fine," grumbled Kenny. "Paul, you need to come too," he added as Iola wheeled Joe out the door.

"I'll call your mom," Iola whispered quickly before Kenny and Paul got within earshot again.

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Arriving at the studio, Kenny rushed inside leaving Joe and Paul to follow at a slower pace. When the two entered the studio, Kenny was having an animated conversation with Artie. Frank, who was within earshot of the two men, rolled his eyes at Joe and Paul. Artie turned and said something to Frank who grimaced then set about looking for a background.

Kenny turned to Joe and Paul. "Go see Shelia," he ordered them. "Danny has already left for the day but we can get some shots of the three of you later. Tell Shelia I said breezy," he added as the two walked off.

An hour later, Joe walked out of the dressing room wearing a pair of silver metallic parachute pants with a neon blue lightening bolt running down the side. His silver metallic shirt boasted a small neon blue lightening bolt on the upper left arm. Paul was wearing the same design except his was metallic gold with neon red lightening bolts. They took positions in front of the background that Frank had found. It was a fall sunrise and the props they were using made it look like the two were biking along a one-car lane.

"Frank, turn the fan on low," Artie ordered as he started snapping pictures of the two boys. "Aim it so they're getting a breeze from the right."

Frank walked over to the fan and moved it into position. He then flipped the switch. A spark flew; a burning smell penetrated the air; and Frank gave a startled shout as the fan burst into flames.


	4. Chapter 4

Frank leapt back and pulled the plug from the wall. Joe started to rush over but Kenny, who had been watching the shoot, ordered him to stay where he was. Artie set his camera down and grabbed a fire extinguisher and doused the flames. "Are you all right?" he asked Frank, a worried frown on his face. 

Frank nodded. "I wonder what caused that," he commented, stooping down to look at the fan's remains. He knew better than to touch it until it had cooled down.

"Leave it for now," Kenny ordered. "Let's get back to work."

Artie shot Kenny a dirty look but picked up his camera. "There's another fan in the back near the ladder," Artie told Frank. "Would you please get it?"

"Sure," Frank agreed and went to retrieve the fan. Frank used a different plug for the fan in case the previous one was damaged. Three hours later, Artie was satisfied with the shoot and sent Frank to give the film to Beverly.

Paul went to change while Artie and Kenny discussed the next day's shoot. No one was paying any attention to him so Joe made his way over to the fan. He rummaged around the debris. He couldn't find anything that looked like it didn't belong so he stood up and turned to go to the dressing room but stopped when he saw Danny watching him.

"What were you doing?" Danny demanded.

"Just looking through the mess," Joe replied. "What are you doing here?" he asked, remembering Danny had supposedly left for the day.

"I left my sweater," Danny explained. "I thought the shoot was over," he continued, looking at Joe suspiciously.

"Kenny decided to just change outfits and locations," Joe responded with a shrug.

"Joe!" Paul shouted, coming out of the dressing room. "Shelia's ready for you."

"Later," Joe said to Danny and went inside the dressing room. Danny followed Joe inside and picked up a sweater hanging at the end of a rack where the models kept their own clothing. He shot Joe a look of pure animosity then left.

Joe let Shelia help him out of his outfit. "That's looking bad," Shelia told Joe, seeing the huge bruise on his side.

"It feels as bad as it looks," Joe confessed, grimacing with pain as he raised his arms to slip into his own shirt.

"Better put a compress on it this evening," she advised, taking the designer clothing and walking away.

Joe finished dressing and went back outside to find Danny and Paul in conversation. As Joe approached, Danny left.

"What happened between you and Danny?" Paul asked Joe, looking at him curiously as he approached.

"Nothing. Why?" Joe replied, genuinely confused.

"Danny came out of the dressing room and started asking all kinds of questions about you," Paul informed him.

"Like what?" Joe asked, stunned.

"He wanted to know what modeling you've done before; who your agent is; and how professional did I think you were," Paul revealed, shaking his head. "He sounded positively paranoid!"

"Weird," Joe responded with a laugh, secretly wondering why Danny seemed to be investigating him. "Um..what did you answer?" Joe asked, curious.

"I couldn't tell you that," Paul refused. "It might go to your head," he teased. "Look, I'm going to split. It's been hectic. Take care of that side."

"I will," Joe promised, waving as Paul took off at a jog.

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Frank pulled to a stop behind Joe in the Hardy driveway and got out. He reached the door of the van and pulled it open just as Joe's seat buckle snapped free. Frank helped Joe ease out.

"Oooh," groaned Joe as Frank's hand came in contact with Joe's side.

"Sorry," Frank said, wincing for Joe's sake. "Why ever did you go back to the studio today?" he demanded.

"Kenny had an epiphany," Joe informed him. "Besides, if I let anyone know how bad this did hurt, I'd get kicked off the set."

They reached the front door and Frank unlocked it. Entering, their mother came from the kitchen to greet them. "Let me see," she ordered. Iola had told her it was a bruised bone but she wanted to see for herself how bad it was herself, knowing his skin would show it as well.

Joe eased up his shirt. "It looked better before," Frank said, frowning. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah," Joe said. "But I could use a compress," he said, lifting an eyebrow at his mother.

"Get him upstairs and into bed," Laura ordered Frank. "I'll bring the compress and something to eat."

Joe gave her a big grin. "You're a lifesaver," he said.

"Did you get the personnel records?" Joe asked as they went upstairs.

"Yeah," Frank answered. "But they're on disk so I'll check them out while you rest. Mr. Demar wants the disk back."

"Be sure and check out Danny Donaldson," Joe told him. "Paul said he was asking a lot of questions about me," he added.

"I will," Frank promised. He helped Joe out of his clothes and into his pajamas and waited for their mother to arrive before going into his own room to load the disk.

"Honey, come and have some dinner before you start that," Laura insisted, poking her head into his room from the bathroom that connected his and Joe's room.

"I'm not hungry," Frank told her. "Artie and I stopped for lunch on the way back to the studio from the park and I ate a bit too much."

"All right, then," Laura said. "I'll put you a plate in the refrigerator and you can nuke it later."

"Thanks," he said, glancing at her with a smile.

"I'm going over to Marla Anderson's for a little while," Laura told him. "Keep an eye on your brother," she requested.

"I will," he promised. "Have fun."

Frank pulled up Danny's file. Knowing Joe would want to see it, he hit print then moved on to Kenny Parsons. Frank also printed Artie's, Paul's and Beverly's files. Finally, he printed up the missing models. Troy Spencer and Jeff Benatar. Taking the papers with him, he went through the bathroom into Joe's room, dropping the papers and grabbing the hand that landed on his shoulder as he passed the threshold.


	5. Chapter 5

"No!" Joe shouted before Frank could follow through with the martial arts maneuver Joe had seen him perform countless times. 

Frank released the arm, grinning sheepishly as he turned to see Chet glaring at him. "Geez!" Chet complained. "A fellow comes to check on a friend and he nearly gets his arm ripped out of its socket."

"Sorry, Chet," Frank apologized. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Your mom let me in as she was leaving," Chet explained.

Frank knelt to pick up the papers he had dropped and Chet bent down to help. "Those the files?" Joe asked from the bed.

"Some of them," Frank answered. "I looked at the others but they have all been working for Demar for at least five years."

"It could still be one of them," Joe pointed out.

"True, but I don't want to waste all the ink in my printer," Frank said. "If none of these pan out, we'll go over the other files later," he said. "I'll copy everything on the disk."

"That will eat up your memory," Chet warned him.

"I have to return the disk," Frank informed him. "And I can delete the info after the case is over."

"Tell me about the case," Chet urged. "Iola called to let me know Joe was all right but she didn't know much about what you were into. Or, at least if you told her, she didn't have time to fill me in."

"Have a seat," Frank told his pal. Seventeen and stocky, Chet had a reputation for the biggest appetite on Bayport. Chet's brown eyes gazed at Joe's dessert hungrily as he sat down.

"Forget it!" Joe told him, shaking his head empathetically. "They're so afraid we'll gain weight, they won't let us eat at work."

Chet looked contrite. "Okay, give," he ordered, looking at Frank.

Frank told Chet about the sabotage and the missing models. "So you set Joe up as bait," Chet said when Frank had finished.

Frank winced, but nodded. "Kenny has already approached Joe with an offer that Demar would not appreciate."

"You want me to let Kenny think I might tell Demar?" Joe asked.

"That's a good idea," Frank approved. "But make sure I'm around when you do. I don't want you disappearing."

"Can I help?" Chet asked.

Frank glanced at Joe. Joe's eyes were thoughtful for a bit then they widened as inspiration struck. "How about a security guard?" he suggested. "With all that's been going on, no one would think it odd if Demar hired one more."

"Or even two," Frank added, turning to look at Chet. "You think Biff might want to help out too?"

"Two?" Joe asked. "That's really not necessary."

Frank refused to look at Joe but Chet could see the guilty look in his eyes and grinned. Frank wanted extra protection for Joe but didn't want Joe to know. "Actually, it is," Chet said, coming to Frank's aid. "One in the daytime and one at night."

"Let's see what you've got," Joe said, setting his tray aside and starting to get up.

"Stay put," snapped Frank, frowning at Joe. "If you want to go to work tomorrow, you're forbidden to get out of that bed until then."

"What if I have to go to the bathroom?" Joe asked.

"That's the only exception," Frank replied sternly.

"What if someone breaks in?" Joe demanded, crossing his arms and leaning back.

"Fine, but nothing else," Frank answered through gritted teeth.

"So if the house catches on fire I'm just supposed to lay here and..." Joe began, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Joseph!" Frank growled, not seeing the teasing glint.

"Easy, Dad," Joe kidded, caving in. "I'll stay put. But can I please see their files?" he begged, holding out his hand.

Frank let out a sigh. He should have known Joe was teasing him. Chet laughed at the two, wishing he had a brother to kid around with. A sister just wasn't the same. Frank handed Joe and Chet some of the papers he held.

"Daniel Donaldson," Joe read aloud the name at the top of the sheet. "He's been modeling for almost five years but this is his first time modeling in the states. His name was Double D in Europe where he had several contracts until..." Joe broke off, his brow furrowing.

"Until?" Chet nudged him.

"Until his last contract was canceled almost nine months ago," Joe finished. "This is his first job since."

"Does it say why his contract was canceled?" Frank asked.

"No," Joe answered. "But it gives his permanent address as Gloucester."

"Hmm, Jeff Benatar was from there too," Frank recalled, looking through the papers in his hand and pulling his bio out. "And his last contract was canceled nine months ago."

"Is this his first job since?" Chet asked, looking at him.

Frank shook his head. "He actually had two more jobs in the mean time. One for the Simpson Department Store and one for DeGenea." The boys knew DeGenea was a line of cologne for men.

"So Danny knew one of the missing models before he started on this job," Chet said.

"He never mentioned it," Joe said.

"To you anyway," Frank said. "He obviously doesn't like you or he wouldn't have been asking questions about you."

"This Winfield guy is really something," Chet spoke up. "He's won several awards for his work."

"He live in Gloucester too?" Joe asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Nope," Chet said. "He's from LA."

Before they could go over the other files Frank had printed up, the telephone rang. Frank went into the hall to answer it.

"Hello?" Frank said.

"This is Con Riley," Con's voice came through. "Frank?"

"Yeah," he acknowledged.

"You and Joe might want to meet me at the morgue," Con said.

"Why?"

"You're working on a case at Demar's Studio, right?"

"Right," Frank replied, his stomach getting a sinking feeling. Had more sabotage occurred in the short time they had been home?

"One of the missing models turned up," Con informed him. "Dead."

"But why do you want us at the morgue?" Frank asked, mystified. People had turned up dead that they were looking for before but they had never been asked to go to the morgue.

"I'm sorry," Con said. "You're going to have to see this for yourself. He's been, well...let's just say he doesn't look like he did before he was reported missing."


	6. Chapter 6

"I'll be right down," promised Frank, a worried frown causing his eyes to dim. "Joe was hurt on the set today and has to rest." 

"Your dad there?" Con asked.

"No," Frank answered, feeling a bit sick as he heard the concern and fear creep into Con's voice. "Why?"

"If Joe's working undercover as one of the models, don't leave him alone," Con cautioned. "Especially if anyone involved knows where you live."

Frank swallowed. "I...I won't," he said. "I'll be there in a little bit," he added.

Frank hung up and returned to Joe's room. "Con wants me to meet him at the morgue," he told Joe and Chet. "One of the models turned up dead." Joe started to get up but Frank shook his head.

Joe pulled the sheet back up with a flourish and a frown. He gave Frank a puzzled look and Frank knew Joe was thinking the same thing he had when Con had requested their presence at the morgue. "Chet, would you stay here until I get back and turn the alarm on when I leave?"

"Okay, what's going on?" Joe demanded.

"I'm not sure," Frank admitted. "But Con sounded spooked."

"Con Riley?" Joe gasped in surprise. He had known the man for years and nothing had ever phased him.

Frank nodded. "He suggested, none to subtly, I might add, that you not be left alone."

"You will tell me what this is all about when you get back?" Joe prodded.

"Of course," Frank replied in annoyance. "Don't I always?"

"No," Joe answered. "Usually, if it's something bad and it concerns me, you just try and protect me without letting me know."

"I don't do that!" Frank denied, his eyes wide in feigned innocence.

"Yes, you do," Joe assured him. Frank looked at Chet who nodded in agreement.

"All right," Frank relented. "I'll tell you everything when I get back. BUT!" he stressed the word. "Stay in bed."

Joe gave Frank a sharp salute, wincing a little bit at the movement. Frank picked up Joe's tray and carried it downstairs to the kitchen with Chet at his heels. "Don't let him up and don't answer the door unless it's someone you know," Frank cautioned Chet before he left.

Chet shut the door behind Frank and flipped on the alarm that would sound at the Cohen Security Agency and be relayed to the Bayport PD if it were to go off. Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, he headed back upstairs.

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Frank arrived at the morgue in a little under twenty-five minutes. It was a two story brick building with reserved parking in the front so Frank drove to the back and parked near the grass. He got out and walked to the one door visible that did not advertise "authorized personnel only," and entered.

Con was waiting for him just inside the entryway. His brown eyes were drawn together and his usual cheery smile was absent. He looked at Frank as he came towards him with an unchanging expression.

"I'm here," Frank said. "Now will you tell me why you're all bent out of shape?"

"Come with me," Con replied, his expression softening although the wrinkles never left his forehead. He led Frank down the corridor to two flights of stairs. One going up and the other down into the basement. Frank knew the rooms below were for deaths caused by suspected pathogens while the rooms upstairs were for deaths due to crimes. The floor he was on now was used exclusively for offices.

Frank followed Con upstairs and down the corridor to the third room on the left. Con reached for the knob but stopped and turned to look at Frank before opening the door. "Brace yourself," he said, causing Frank's stomach to tighten even more.

Con turned the knob and they went inside. One of the two people in the room came over to them. "Benatar," Con said. The man led them over to the wall and reached for a handle and out slid a covered corpse. He unzipped the body bag to reveal the person within.

Frank's eyes widened in horror as a small gasp escaped him. The body was completely covered in a multitude of nicks; the face revealing the most damage. The boy's head had been shaved and his open eyes were solid black.

"Paint," said the man, seeing Frank's eyes looking at the corpse's. "A razor caused the nicks, although each nick was inflicted at a separate time."

"How long ago did he die?" Frank asked; wondering how long the boy had suffered.

"The estimated time of death is sometime between eight p.m. last night and eight a.m. this morning," was the answer.

"Where was he found?" Frank asked, tearing his gaze away from Benatar's body and looking at Con.

"In a shallow grave just outside of the graveyard off Fillman Road," Con answered. "We think he had been there since sometime yesterday morning.

"He was tortured and then buried alive?" Frank demanded, shaking his head slightly. They had had no clue they were dealing with a madman.

"Want to tell me about your case?" Con requested, although his tone left Frank in little doubt he had no choice.

Frank took one last look at the body of Jeff Benatar, then nodded. He followed Con out of the room wondering how he was going to make Joe to quit.


	7. Chapter 7

"What's so interesting?" Chet asked Joe, going back into his room and still munching the apple he had filched from the kitchen. 

Joe had been reading one of the sheets Frank had printed up. His brows had been drawn together as he concentrated on what he was reading but when Chet spoke, Joe looked up, startled. "It's Beverly Crenshaw's file," Joe answered. "She's the head developer at the studio," he explained, seeing Chet's puzzled look. "She worked on three shoots, not including this one, with Troy and two with Jeff and one with Paul."

"Looks like a lot of these people have worked together before," commented Chet. "What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is she, Troy, Jeff, and Paul all worked on a layout for Gilbert about a year ago," Joe told him, his blue eyes looking at Chet in excitement.

"Who is Gilbert?" Chet inquired patiently.

"Raven Gilbert is the number one designer for the type of clothes you find at places that aren't as hip or upscale as Simpson's," Joe explained.

"Like K-Mart and Wal-Mart?" Chet asked. Joe nodded. "So?"

Joe scowled. "I don't know," he admitted. "But it just seems too big of a coincidence." He read over her file again. "You know," he said a little later, "maybe we're going about this the wrong way."

"What do you mean?"

"Suppose the sabotage..." Joe's words were lost when a crash resounded from outside. Forgetting his promise, Joe got out of bed and hurried to the window, reaching it just after Chet.

"Looks like someone hit your trashcans," Chet said, turning and scowling at Joe. "Get back into bed," he ordered.

"But..." Joe started to object but Chet would not allow him to finish.

"No buts," Chet ordered. "I'll handle this." He waited until Joe was back in bed before going downstairs. He turned off the alarm and opened the back door. As he stepped outside, something hard came crashing down on his head.

Joe waited in bed, glancing through the papers as he waited impatiently for Chet's return. It wasn't long before he heard someone coming up the steps. "Chet! Was the driver hurt?" Joe shouted.

"No, but Chet was," said an unfamiliar male voice. Joe looked up in alarm as a large man in a ski mask wearing blue jeans and a blue tee shirt entered his room, a revolver drawn and pointed at him.

"Well, now," the man continued. "In bed so early? Aren't we feeling well?" he asked in mock sympathy.

"Who are you?" Joe demanded, glaring at him. "What did you do to Chet?"

"We sent your friend on a little visit to la-la land," the man answered.

"We?" Joe asked, his gaze narrowing on the masked stranger.

"Can't find it," said another man entering the room behind the first.

"Blast it!" snarled the first man. "We've got to get that disk."

The disk Frank got from Demar? Joe wondered silently. Who were these men and how did they know Frank even lived here?

"We'll just have to take something we can trade for the disk," the second man said, his voice a bit muffled by his mask.

"Good idea," the first man congratulated him. "We'll take Blondie."

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When Frank arrived home, he used his cell to call Chet inside so he could shut off the alarm. After the fourth ring, Frank disconnected and climbed out of the van. He ran up to the front door. Locked. Using his key, he opened the door, his fear growing greater when the alarm did not sound. He started for the steps but changed direction and ran for the kitchen when he heard a loud groan.

Frank flipped on the light and saw Chet trying to get to his knees, blood causing his blond hair to clump on the back of his head. "Easy, Pal," Frank said softly, going over to him. "Stay put. I'll call an ambulance."

"Joe," Chet rasped. "Check...on Joe first."

"Stay put," Frank ordered again, petting Chet's shoulder. He rose and hurried up the stairs, coming to a stop just inside Joe's room. The sheet lay on the floor in a heap and a book was lying on the floor that had once been on the nightstand. The papers he had left with Joe were scattered about but there was no sign of Joe anywhere. With a sinking heart, Frank reached for a slip of paper that lay in the center of Joe's pillow.

IF YOU WANT BLONDIE BACK, LEAVE THE DISK

IN A SMALL BROWN BOX ON TOP OF THE TRASH IN THE

SECOND CAN BEHIND TURTLE'S RESTAURANT BY 9P.M.

ANY COPS AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN.


	8. Chapter 8

Frank lowered the paper and fought to keep his breathing on an even keel. He phoned the police and reported Joe's kidnapping and requested an ambulance for Chet, then went back down to the kitchen where Chet was sitting up but leaning against the cabinets for support. 

"Joe?" Chet asked as Frank entered.

"He's gone," Frank said, his voice barely a whisper. Chet tried to rise but Frank stopped him. "I've already called the police," he said. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Chet told him about the car crashing into the trashcans and going to see about it but getting knocked out when he took a step outside. "You think Danny, Beverly or Paul took Joe?"

"Beverly?" Frank asked, his face registering the confusion he felt. Beverly wasn't high on their list of suspects.

"Yeah. Joe noticed she worked with both the missing models and Paul for someone named Gilbert," Chet informed him, closing his eyes and wincing as the blare of sirens came closer. Frank remained by Chet's side until the paramedics arrived. While they prepared Chet for the trip to the hospital, Frank called his family to have them meet him there.

"Frank," Chet said as he was put on the stretcher. "You don't need to come with me," he said. "Work on getting Joe back."

"Sure?" Frank asked, relieved because he had really wanted to get started but feeling guilty because Chet was one of his best friends.

"Yeah," Chet replied, giving Frank a brave smile. "I'll be home by tomorrow and you had better have Joe back or Iola will kill me."

Frank watched the ambulance drive away then went upstairs to join Sergeant Riley who had been given the call on the assumption Joe's abduction was tied in to this homicide case.

"Find anything?" Frank asked when he entered Joe's bedroom.

"Just the note you mentioned," Con replied, looking at Frank quizzically. "What disk are they taking about?"

"You know, that doesn't make any sense," Frank said, shaking his head slightly as his forehead developed little wrinkles. "For that matter, none of this makes sense. No one at the studio knows who Joe or I really am or where we live. Too, if it were the killer who took him, why would he offer an exchange? As for the disk, it's lying on my desk and these papers," he added, waving his left hand around at the scattered sheets, "are part of what was on that disk."

"Disk?" asked a new voice from the doorway.

"Dad!" Frank shouted in surprise. "Joe has been kidnapped," he added then explained about their case.

Fenton was frowning by the time Frank finished. "I don't think this has anything to do with your mystery," Fenton told Frank. "I took a computer disk from the office of a man who has been laundering money for Severus Clearwater."

Con, recognizing the name, gave a low whistle. "He's been under surveillance for over two years. No wonder he wants the disk back."

"We better get a move on," Frank said, glancing at his watch. "It's after seven and the disk has to be there by nine." Frank looked up to see his father wince. "What?" he demanded, his face white. "What's wrong?"

"I don't have it," Fenton admitted. "I turned it over to the FBI before I left. There's no time to even get a copy of the disk!"


	9. Chapter 9

"Who are you?" Joe demanded. 

"Acquaintances of your father," the first intruder stated. Joe knew then that these men had nothing to do with his or Frank's case.

"My father's not here," Joe said. "He hasn't been home for days."

"We know. He's been putting his squeaky-clean nose into our business," the masked intruder snarled, his brown eyes hard. "He took something that our boss wants back and you are our insurance we're going to get it back."

Joe tossed his cover aside, scattering papers everywhere, and jumped out of bed, ignoring the agonizing protest from his side. He ran for the bathroom, knocking off a book that had lain on the edge of the nightstand. If he could get to the bathroom, he could escape into Frank's room and out his door but he never made it. The second intruder latched onto Joe's hair as he passed him, pulling Joe to a painful stop.

"Try that again and you'll be taking a nap you won't wake up from," Joe was warned as the business end of the revolver was nestled into the back of his neck.

Joe was forced out of his room and down the stairs. Exiting through the kitchen, Joe gasped when he saw Chet lying there but was relieved to see the rise and fall of his chest. Joe was pushed outside, still in his bare feet, toward the car that had smashed into the trash cans earlier. The back door was opened but before Joe could get in, he felt something hard connect with the back of his head before the world went black.

When Joe came too, he was lying on hard concrete with his wrists and ankles tightly bound. A large piece of duct tape surrounded his mouth making speech impossible. He winced when a light was turned on over head. The light made the drumming in his head louder and Joe squeezed his eyes shut to block it out.

"Craig, you and Mack head to the restaurant to pick up the disk. Go by Stone's to check it out and make sure it's the real thing. If it is, call me and I'll let the kid go," Joe heard one of the men present speaking.

"And if it's a fake?" demanded the intruder who had first appeared in Joe's room.

"Call me," the first voice instructed. "If Hardy hasn't followed instructions, we'll give Blondie here a swimming lesson."

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"What are we going to do?" Frank demanded, his brown eyes wide with fright. He had wanted Joe to cease his undercover assignment but not by being kidnapped or killed!

"Get a disk you won't mind losing," Fenton instructed. "And put it in the container requested." Fenton turned to Con. "Get hold of the chief and ask him to meet me at Sam Radley's," he requested.

"Sam?" Frank asked as Con left the room.

"These men play for keeps," Fenton told Frank solemnly. "We have to have a plan with a good back up and Sam's the only one I know who can pull it off."

At ten till nine, Fenton walked down the alley behind Turtles restaurant, past a homeless man lying half in a cardboard box, and up to the second trash can. Looking around to see if anyone else were about, he quickly put the small box containing the disk under the lid as he had been instructed. On his way out of the alley, a hobo bumped into him, burping up into his face with a stench that almost turned his stomach. "Got a sp...(hic-up) spare dollar?" the hobo asked, gazing up the three-inch difference into Fenton's brown eyes with a pair of bloodshot hazel ones.

"No," Fenton replied, frowning at him and moving away. Fenton returned to his car on the street, climbed in and returned home, waiting anxiously for news of Joe.

Nine o'clock came and went. As did ten and eleven. At twenty minutes before midnight, two men came into the alley and headed straight for the trash can. "Shouldn't we be a bit more cautious?" asked one of the men.

"We've been watching this alley since Hardy came in here," the second man said. "Let's get the disk and go. Hardy won't try anything. He knows his baby boy is dead if he does."

As the two men passed the homeless man, he looked at them and then to the alleyway entrance where the drunk had passed out some time before and lay in a heap near several papers and a bag of trash. The hobo quietly picked himself up and vanished out of the alley, unseen by all but the homeless man.

The two thugs left the alley, package in hand and returned to their car not seeing the homeless man jump up and follow behind them. As they drove away, the homeless person removed a cell phone from his clothes and placed a call describing the car, giving the tag number and the direction it was headed as he hurried away from the alley toward the unmarked police car on the next block.


	10. Chapter 10

Keeping a safe distance, Frank and the other unmarked cars kept their sights on the car carrying the kidnappers. Frank called his dad on his cell to let him know the car had come to a stop not too far from the waterfront and promised to call him when they had a visual on Joe.  
Frank and the officer he was with got out of their car and cautiously made their way to the house where the kidnappers had entered. 

"I can't believe he would sacrifice his own kid like that!" shouted one of the men, looking at the game on the computer that Frank had substituted for the missing disk.

"Call the boss and let him know," ordered the first man.

The ruffian picked up the pone and dialed a number. "You were right to take precautions," the man said. "Hardy didn't give us the right disk. What do you want us to do now?"

"Right. Uh-huh. Will do," he said, listening to the boss speak. He hung up and looked at the other two men in the room. "Ken, you take the car and head to the hideout. Benny and I are going to take off on foot. Scully thinks the cops may have followed us and are watching this place. Be careful and take evasive maneuvers. Benny and I are decoys."

"What if they catch us?" Benny whined.

"They got nothing on us," he said. "Now, let's get moving."

When Benny and the other man exited the house, they took off on foot in a southeasterly direction. The officer with Frank radioed dispatch to alert the other officers that the men were headed toward the waterfront. He and Frank returned to the unmarked car and waited for Ken to exit. Less than two minutes after they had settled into the car, Ken cam out and got in the Volvo and took off.

Frank called his dad to let him know what was happening but his cell kept ringing unanswered. Frank hung up and tried again two minutes later.

"I just talked to Severus," Fenton said. "They know about the disk already."

"Two of them took off as decoys and Ken, the one we're following, took the car and is heading toward the hideout," Frank told him.

"They are going to expect that," Fenton said. "Get close enough to be spotted and then let him lose you."

"But dad!" Frank objected fearfully.

"Easy," Fenton calmed him. "Sam can handle it."

"He better," Frank muttered after he hung up. He relayed his father's instructions to the officer who sped up to get closer to the suspect.

It didn't take too long for Ken to notice and to start trying to lose them. "Not very good at this, is he?" Frank asked with a little smile.

"Not at all," Officer Han agreed. "Want me to get us lost now?"

"Yeah," Frank agreed. "But don't make it look too easy."

Several turns later, Officer Han pretended to take a turn too sharply and the car went into a spin giving the Volvo time to get away. "Where to now?" Han inquired, looking at Frank questioningly.

"The police station," Frank said. "We can listen to what's going on from there."

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"Idiot," chirped Ken gleefully as he sped away from the revolving squad car. He made a left onto Danube street and two miles later turned right onto Squibly Drive and then all the way to the end of the street before making a left onto a gravel road. One more block and he pulled to a stop and got out of the car.

He went inside the building and shut the door behind him. "Hardy didn't deliver the disk and it wasn't at his place," Ken said, entering the room with Severus and three other hoods. He glanced over at the bound figure of Joe Hardy who glared at him in triumph. "I wouldn't be so happy if I were you, kid," Ken told Joe. "This only means you won't live to see sunrise."

"He's right," agreed Severus. "Take him to the bay and drop him in," he ordered Ken. "Jimmy, go with him and make sure he doesn't float."


	11. Chapter 11

Joe began struggling as he was hauled to his feet but Ken made a fist and hit Joe on the left jaw, sending him reeling back onto the floor with force. Joe grunted but put up no further resistance as he was lifted up and then over Jimmy's shoulder and carried out to the car. 

"In the trunk?" Ken asked, heading back and unlocking it. He looked over at Jimmy as he opened the trunk.

"Nah, he'll be okay in the back floorboard," Jimmy said.

Ken slammed the trunk shut and headed to the back door. He opened it up and waited until Jimmy had dumped Joe inside before closing the door. Jimmy got in the passenger seat while Ken got back behind the wheel and off they went. Minutes after the car pulled away, three squad cars came to a stop outside of the hideout. Fenton Hardy arrived twenty minutes later, followed almost immediately by Frank and Chief Collig.

"Where is Joe?" Frank demanded, grabbing Severus by the collar and pulling his face to his.

"Dead," Severus stated calmly. Sergeant Riley grabbed Frank and pulled him back before the fist Frank had formed could find its mark.

"What do we do now?" Frank demanded, looking at his father.

"We wait," Fenton said, sighing heavily. He was as anxious as Frank but he knew there was nothing they could do at the present. It was all up to Sam.

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"Here's a good place," Jimmy said, raising his arm and pointing off the road ahead of them, his arm blocking Ken's vision for an instant.

"Put your fool arm down," Ken grumbled, slowing down and pulling off the road. The men got out and pulled Joe from the rear floorboard.

Joe began struggling as Jimmy lifted him onto his shoulder. "Hold still!" Jimmy barked slapping Joe's backside so hard he was sure he would have a blister...if he could get away!

Jimmy took the lead as he moved toward the river leaving Ken to bring up the rear. Ken paused when he heard a rustle behind him and turned to look. Before he could call out a warning to his comrade, he fell to the ground unconscious.

"Ready for a little swim?" Jimmy asked, lowering Joe to the ground. "Ken! Grab the tool kit from the trunk. We'll tie it to Blondie. No way he'll float with that hooked to him," Jimmy added, laughing.

"I don't think so," said a voice Joe recognized at once, although when he looked at the speaker all he saw was a drunken hobo. Sam Radley released a swift uppercut to Jimmy's jaw and followed through with a sharp jab to his lower stomach.

"Oof," Jimmy gasped, grabbing his stomach and falling to his knees. Sam delivered another right to Jimmy's already sore jaw and smiled grimly as he watched the man fall sideways and lay still.

"Let's get you out of those ropes and call your dad," Sam said, bending down to untie Joe's hands.

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It was three in the morning when Joe reached the safety of the police station. Frank, seeing Joe enter, ran over to him and gave him a hug. "Ooh, not so tight," moaned Joe.

"You look terrible," Fenton said, coming over. "Maybe you should see a doctor."

Joe shook his head. "I'll be fine," he said. "I just need a cold compress for my jaw and some sleep. How's Chet?" he asked, looking at Frank a bit apprehensively.

"He's fine," Frank assured him. He had called the hospital and been told that Chet had a minor concussion but would be released the next day baring any unforeseen complications. "But dad's right. You do look pretty bad," he added, holding up Joe's wrists and looking at the rope burn.

"Yeah, I have the feeling my modeling career is over," Joe said with a scowl. "Now how are we supposed to investigate the missing models and sabotage?"

Secretly relieved, Frank kept his joy under wraps. "Maybe you could become Artie's assistant," he suggested.

"I guess time will tell," Joe said, quickly covering his mouth as a yawn escaped him.

"Let's get you home and into bed," Fenton said. "Your mother is worried sick about you."

"What about pressing charges?" Joe asked.

"I took care of that," Fenton said. "You are, after all, still a minor," he added.

"I guess there are times when that's a good thing," Joe commented, smothering another yawn. He looked at Frank as he remembered why he had been left with Chet. "What happened at the morgue?" he asked.

"I'll tell you after you've had some sleep," Frank promised. "I think we're all too tired to process it tonight," he added, fighting a yawn of his own.

Seven hours later, after only five hours of sleep, Frank called Sebastian Demar and told him Joe would not be able to continue as a model.

"I understand," Demar said. "I'm sorry Joe had such a rough time last night. Does this mean you two are giving up on this case?"

"No," Frank replied. "I was thinking that maybe Joe could become Artie's assistant," he suggested. "Joe knows much more about photography than I do and I could be transferred to the make-up department or something."

"That is a possibility," Demar agreed. "When you two get here, we'll work something out."

"Okay," agreed Frank. "But Joe will still come in by himself. We don't want to blow our cover by letting people know we know each other," he added. Frank said goodbye and hung up then hurried down to the kitchen were his mother had prepared a light brunch for everyone.

"Okay, give," Joe ordered, entering the room and sitting down a bit gingerly.

Frank told them about the model that had been found. "Oh!" gasped Laura, her face paling. She looked at Joe and gave a wan smile. "I hate to say this, but I am a little glad you were hurt. There is no way I would allow you to continue as one of the models after that poor boy had been found like that."

Joe nodded and looked at Frank. "We had better keep a close eye on Danny and Paul," he said.

Frank nodded but did not respond. He was gazing at his father whose face was somber but had a far off look. "Dad?" Frank asked.

"The sabotage doesn't fit in with what I know about serial killers," Fenton said.

Joe hit his forehead. "I forgot!" he said. "Last night while I was looking at the sheets Frank had printed up, I noticed that Beverly worked for Gilbert on several shoots."

"It was in her personnel file," Frank said. "Just because Demar and Gilbert are competitors doesn't mean anything. She wouldn't have listed those shoots if she had anything to hide."

"Or would she?" Joe parried. "Remember Sherlock Homes? The best place to hide something is in plain sight. What if she let Demar know she worked for Gilbert in the past so he wouldn't suspect her? She could be giving negatives of all the shoots to Gilbert."

"If the killer isn't involved in the sabotage, it is a distinct possibility," Fenton agreed, causing Joe to beam. "I think you two should give this Beverly person a little more attention."

"Fenton," Laura interrupted. "What if it isn't a serial killer?" she asked. "Two boys are missing, but only one has turned up. Maybe it is the same person responsible."

"You could be right, dear," Fenton acknowledged. "But the way the boy was killed is too much like the victim of a sociopath would be."


	12. Chapter 12

Frank entered the dressing room a little after lunchtime. "There you are," Shelia said. "Too bad you weren't here earlier. Kenny was in here giving me a hard time because one of the models never showed up. Like it was my fault," she added, rolling her eyes with a snort. "That boy has some serious problems, I'm telling you." She stopped speaking and gave Frank a curious look. "Weren't you Artie's assistant?" 

"Yes ma'am," Frank answered.

"Then why are you my assistant now? Not that I mind," she hastily added.

"Mr. Demar hired me so I could learn the ropes," Frank answered. "And that means I have to work in each department."

"Uh-huh," Shelia said, her blue eyes still looking at Frank suspiciously. "And why would he do that? He hires professionals not newbies."

"He and my father are old friends," Frank fibbed.

"Now that I can understand," Shelia said. "Friends and family," she continued. "That is one sure way to get a break in the business."

"You started this way too?" Frank inquired.

"No. I got where I am on my own," Shelia declared proudly. "But take Beverly."

"Crenshaw?" Frank asked, his brown eyes alight with interest.

"No, Beverly Sills. Of course Beverly Crenshaw," she said, assuming Frank was a complete idiot. "She got her start working for her sister."

"What does her sister do?" Frank inquired.

"Her sister designs clothes for department stores," Shelia informed him. "Raven Gilbert."

"That's Beverly's sister?" Frank asked in surprise. "But why would Mr. Demar hire her if she were related to one of his competitors?"

"Probably doesn't know," Shelia answered, shrugging her shoulders. "Anyway, we had better get set up. They will be back from their break and ready for more primping soon."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joe arrived on the set just as the others were returning from their break. "Where have you been?" demanded Kenny coming up behind Joe.

Joe spun around and saw Kenny and Artie coming toward him. "What happened to you?" Kenny demanded, rushing over and grabbing Joe's face in his hands.

"I kind of got into a fight last night," Joe admitted. "There's no way I can continue modeling for this shoot but Mr. Demar was very nice about it," he quickly continued. "He suggested since my main interest is photography anyway, I can be Artie's assistant since his other one has been moved to another department."

"But the layout is for three models," Artie said. "Why would you get into a fight?"

Joe shrugged. "I wasn't thinking. Modeling was never my first choice anyway."

"Very well," Artie said. "Come along and we'll get set up."

"I'm sorry," Joe apologized to Kenny. "I guess I won't be able to model for you after all."

"Nonsense," Kenny told him, smiling. "My shoot can wait until your face heals. Just no more fighting."

"Yes Sir," Joe agreed, smiling.

"Better get over there. Artie's a real taskmaster," Kenny told him before leaving Joe and heading over to where Danny and Paul sat looking at Joe curiously.

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Frank took the first opportunity he could and made his way to Demar's office. "Did you know Beverly Crenshaw is Raven Gilbert's sister?" he asked.

"I did," Demar replied. "Beverly told me her sister had given her work to start her out but now that she had a resume, she wanted to spread her wings a bit."

"And you don't think it strange that all this sabotage is happening with her around?" Frank queried.

"No," Demar answered. "As a matter of fact, when the sabotage first started, Beverly came to me and told me that she had not done it but she would understand if I wanted to sever her contract. She didn't want to take the chance that anyone might later believe she had done anything while working for me because gossip of that sort could destroy a career."

Frank scowled. She had seemed like the perfect suspect. "Don't take it so hard," Demar said, coming over to Frank and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You and your brother have done an excellent job so far. Don't give up, please? I really need you to find who has been creating all this damage. Our schedule is already three days behind and I'm losing money and time. Plus, I was informed one of our missing models turned up dead yesterday."

Frank nodded. "Jeff Benatar," Frank acknowledged. "But we're starting to think the missing models have nothing to do with sabotage."

"Oh?" Demar asked, lifting his eyebrows. "How did you arrive at this theory?"

Frank explained about the condition of the deceased model. "Serial killers just don't go in for sabotage," he said, shaking his head. "It takes a totally different mind frame."

"Do you have any idea who the killer might be?" Demar inquired.

"Not yet," Frank confessed. "But we're working on it."

"Perhaps we should warn Paul and Danny," Demar suggested. "They shouldn't be kept in the dark if there is a madman running loose."

"True," agreed Frank. "When we thought the saboteur took the two boys because of something they might have seen or known it was different. Now, they could be in trouble just because of what they do or what they look like."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joe was thinking the same thing. He helped Artie with the lights and grabbed the lenses requested and put them in the camera while Artie gave instructions to the two remaining models.

"Where is the lens I asked for?" Artie demanded, turning to glare at Joe.

"In the camera," Joe replied, his voice deceptively pleasant. "I thought it would save time if I went ahead and got it ready for you."

Artie scowled then looked through the camera and then back at Joe. "You know what you're doing," he said. Joe assumed this was as close to a compliment as he was ever going to get. He backed out of the way as Artie began snapping pictures.

When Artie had finished, he handed the film to Joe and ordered him to take it to Beverly. Joe started to leave but stopped to talk to Paul and Danny who were on their way to make-up.

"Can I talk to you two for a minute?" Joe asked.

"About what?" Paul said in a gruff voice, glaring at Joe.

"Hey, chill," Joe said, holding up a hand. "Why are you made at me?"

"Why?" Paul repeated, glaring. "This layout isn't going to work right with only the two of us," he said. "Just because you have other interests doesn't mean we do. Don't you know a model is only as good as his last job?"

"But Danny was out of work for several months before getting this one," Joe said, realizing too late that he wasn't supposed to have known anything about Danny's past.

"Keeping tabs on me?" growled Danny, taking a step closer to Joe.

"Easy," Joe said. "Fighting is what got me into trouble. You want to get into trouble too?"

"Are you threatening me?" Danny demanded.

"I'm trying to warn you," Joe began.

"That's it," snarled Danny, launching himself at Joe.


	13. Chapter 13

"Would you hold it?" Joe gasped, trying to keep Danny from hitting him. "I don't mean to warn you against me. Jeff's body was found." 

"What?" Danny gasped, going still. Joe released Danny's wrists and waited for him to get off of him. Getting back to his feet, Joe continued. "Jeff's body was found," he repeated. "The police think it's the work of a serial killer."

"How do you know?" Paul asked suspiciously.

"I was at the police station last night," confessed Joe. "My fighting, remember?" Danny and Paul gave hesitant nods. "I overheard them talking. They said he had been hurt really bad before he was killed."

"What about Troy?" Paul asked, his face pale.

"I don't know," Joe said. "But, well, if it is a serial killer, then one of you might be next."

"Or you," Danny said.

Joe shook his head. "Not if the killer is only going after the models," he said. "I'm not one anymore."

"Is that why you got into a fight? Because you were afraid you might be next?" Danny asked.

"No," Paul replied for Joe. "Joe said he heard about it at the police station after he was fighting." He looked back to Joe. "Thanks for telling us. It's a sure bet no one else here would mention a word about us being possible targets."

"That's not true," said Frank, coming up behind them. "Mr. Demar sent me over to warn you."

"He did?" Paul asked in surprise. "I guess, maybe, he isn't as bad as I heard he was."

"Come on, let's get over to make-up," Danny said, taking Paul's arm and leading him away.

"You get the feeling they don't like Demar?" Joe asked softly, watching the two walk away.

Frank nodded. "I better get back to make up," Frank said. "See ya," he added. Joe wondered why Frank had left so suddenly but the reason presented itself when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"That was a quick trip to developing," Artie said.

"About that," Joe began, giving Artie his most charming smile. "I kind of got side tracked. I'll run it over now."

"Do that," Artie said. "Then head over to make up and tell Paul and Danny that I want them back here at four in the morning."

"Four?" Joe asked. "Isn't that a bit early?"

"Your quitting caused some changes," Artie said. "We have to change settings. We'll meet here at four and be at the beach by dawn."

"Okay," Joe said, taking off to do as instructed.

"Joe, could I have a word with you?" asked Sebastian Demar from the door of his office as Joe passed it on the way to drop off the film.

Joe went inside and Demar closed the door behind him. "Have you seen Frank recently?" he asked Joe.

"Briefly," Joe replied. "But we didn't get to talk. Why?"

"He mentioned something about Beverly being responsible for the sabotage around here," Demar said. "At the time, I assured him that it couldn't be her but the more I thought about it, the more unsure I became." He sat down and put his hands on his desk, frowning. "I think she may have told me she was related to Raven Gilbert so I wouldn't suspect her."

"That is a possibility," Joe agreed. "I am on my way there now to drop off some film," he continued. "Maybe I can find out something while I am there. But I had better run by make up first," he added, remembering what Artie had said. "Artie wants everyone here at four in the morning and I have to let Danny and Paul know before they get gone."

"Your jaw doesn't look too bad," Demar said, looking at Joe speculatively.

"No," agreed Joe. "And my side is feeling better too. It's the rope burn I got last night that would ruin the pictures," he said with a small laugh, holding out his wrists for inspection.

Joe left and headed to make-up. He arrived just as Paul was getting ready to leave. "Oh, good. I'm glad I caught you. Artie wants everyone here by four in the morning. We shoot at the beach at dawn."

"Peachy," grumbled Danny.

"See you then," Paul said, leaving as Danny sat down in the chair to have his make up removed.

Joe left the room, giving Frank a sly grin because he knew from experience that Danny would be complaining until he left for the day, and made his way to Beverly's office. He knocked on the door. No answer. Knowing she couldn't have left already, Joe tried the knob. It turned easily. He went inside, reaching to the side of the wall to find the light. Just as his fingers brushed the switch a wet cloth made its way over his mouth and nose.

Joe reached up and tried to pull the cloth away but the hand holding it in place was too strong. He started for where the body of his attacker would be but he was pulled into the room and an arm clamped around his neck. Seconds later, Joe's head lolled forward onto his attacker's arm as he lost consciousness.


	14. Chapter 14

When Frank arrived home he met his father in the driveway. "Con called," Fenton informed Frank. "They found the other model." 

"Was he in the same condition?" Frank asked.

Fenton nodded, his face grim. "Where's your brother?" he asked, worry making him look older than this forty years.

"Isn't he home yet?" Frank asked, a frown taking shape on his face. "I stayed late to help Shelia put up the supplies and lay out what was needed for tomorrow morning before I left. The place was empty except for Biff and Mike, the regular security guard."

"I was going to go to the police station and talk to Con, but maybe we should go to the studio instead," Fenton said, worried.

"But Joe isn't modeling anymore," Frank reminded him, although he followed his dad to his car and climbed in the passenger side. "Joe wouldn't be a target anymore. Would he?"

"I hope not," Fenton replied. "But he could have found out who was behind the sabotage and been caught," he hypothesized, starting the car and backing out of the driveway.

They arrived at the studio a little later and Mike let them onto the premises. "Where was Joe the last time you saw him?" Fenton asked Frank.

"In make-up," Frank answered. "He told us that Artie wanted everyone here at four in the morning."

"Any idea where he was heading after that?" Fenton inquired.

"Probably to developing," Frank said. "I noticed he still had the film from the shoot on him."

"Then let's start looking there," Fenton said. "Lead the way."

Frank led the way to developing. "This is Beverly Crenshaw's office," Frank informed his father. "She's Raven Gilbert's sister."

"Did you talk with Demar about that?"

"I did," acknowledged Frank. "He said he already knew but that he felt she was innocent of the sabotage because she had volunteered to quit as soon as the first attempt occurred."

Fenton's frown grew deeper as Frank spoke. "She could have been putting on an act," he told Frank. "Coming clean so early in the game might make him trust her when he shouldn't."

Frank opened the door and flipped the switch on as he entered. Fenton followed close behind and the two began a methodical search of the room. It didn't take long for them to realize something was amiss. "None of Beverly's things are here," Frank said. "It looks like she cleared out."

"Do you have her address?" Fenton inquired. Frank nodded. "Call the station and talk to Con or Ezra," Fenton instructed. "Have them get a warrant to search her place."

Frank nodded and picked up the phone to make the call while his dad continued looking around the room. He found an envelope filled with negatives lying half under the desk and looked at them. When Frank hung up, he handed them to Frank for a closer look.

"This is Danny and Jeff," Frank said, lowering the negative back into the envelope. He held up another. "Troy and Danny," he said, frowning. "But I don't remember seeing these clothes in Demar's line."

"I think it's time we had a talk with Demar about Ms. Crenshaw," Fenton stated.

"He had already left for the day but I do know his home address," Frank said, leading the way out of the office.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joe moaned and moved his head. His eyes flickered as he twisted his head from side to side before they finally opened. "Hello, Joe," came a voice Joe couldn't quite identify. "It's about time you woke up."

"Who..who are you?" Joe demanded, trying to move his head around so he could see the speaker, only to find that he was being held in place by several belts, one of which secured his neck to the hard table he was currently on.

"Why did you do it?" the voice demanded. "Why did you go through all the trouble of becoming a model, signing on for a shoot and then, just quit? The other two did that too," the voice continued. "Jeff told Troy he was going to quit. He had enough money to go to college and he didn't really need this job. He told Troy he was sure Sebastian would cut him a break."

"So you killed Jeff because he was going to walk out on the shoot?" Joe asked.

"That's right," the voice agreed. "And Troy. He was such a bright boy. He thought if Sebastian would let Jeff go and could replace him then why couldn't he quit and become the assistant photographer." The man broke out laughing. "Demar is so stupid he probably would have agreed. After all, he let you. I knew your heart wasn't in modeling. I knew you were like them but I was hoping you would finish the shoot. Don't you realize that every time one of the models is changed it detracts from the work. From my work!" Artie screamed at Joe, coming close to him and looking down into his terrified face. "I have worked hard to get where I am. I started out with nothing. No connections. Not even a decent camera and built my own career with hard work, while you and others like you have everything handed to you because you're so good looking. Well that's about to change," he snarled, holding up his hand.

Joe saw light glisten off the small sharp razor Artie held in his hand. "You are going to have everything taken away from you and you will be no better than I was. No one will want to photograph you when I have finished with you, you might as well be dead. And maybe, just maybe, I might feel sorry enough for you to end it all."

"How did you know Beverly wasn't going to be in the lab?" Joe asked, trying to stall.

"Because I gave her the wrong film to develop yesterday," Artie explained. "She developed the pictures of Jeff and Troy after I had finished with them. I had to take care of her before she could tell anyone."

"You killed her?" Joe gasped. "When?"

"Over lunch," Artie answered. "Oh, don't worry. No one will find her body. I put it in the dumpster behind the studio."


	15. Chapter 15

"Mr. Demar, I'd like you to meet my father, Fenton Hardy," Frank introduced the two men after they entered Demar's spacious living room. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Sebastian greeted Fenton. "You have two wonderful sons."

"Thank you," acknowledged Fenton, smiling briefly at the compliment before turning serious. "Unfortunately, one of them seems to be missing. Do you remember the last time you saw him?"

"This afternoon," Demar answered, his forehead creasing as he remembered his conversation with the younger Hardy. "Ever since I had spoken with Frank about Beverly I had been thinking that perhaps she might have just been feeding me a line. When I saw Joe, I told him my fears and he said he would check it out but he had to pass on a message from Artie to models first."

"So Beverly could have been the last one to see Joe," Frank said, a little less worried than before. While he did believe she might be behind the sabotage, he felt fairly certain she wasn't the killer. "Her office had been cleared out," he informed Demar. "Let's head over to her apartment," he suggested, turning to look at his father.

"No. The police will already be there," Fenton pointed out. "Perhaps we should speak with Kenny and Danny."

"Why them?" Demar demanded, completely bewildered.

"Can you just call them and have them come over here?" Fenton requested. "I do have my reasons."

Demar placed the calls and the three waited for their arrival. Almost an hour later, the doorbell rang. Demar answered it and escorted the two boys into the living room. "What's going on?" Danny demanded, seeing Frank and the older man who resembled him waiting.

"Allow me to introduce you to Fenton and Frank Hardy," Demar said.

"Hardy?" Paul asked, more surprised than annoyed. "I thought your last name was Davis or something like that."

"Frank and his brother, Joe.." Demar began.

"Joe?" Danny snapped, his eyes wide.

"Yes, Joe," Demar reiterated. "Frank and Joe have been investigating the sabotage and trying to find out what happened to Troy and Jeff."

"So, where is Joe?" Paul asked, looking around.

"Missing," Frank answered, frowning.

"Maybe he was taken by the killer," Danny suggested.

"But only models were taken," Frank said, shaking his head.

"Joe was one," Danny pointed out.

"But he quit," Fenton said. He watched the boys expectantly. He had a feeling they knew something that his sons didn't know about the other two boys. Something that might make sense of why they had been taken.

"Yeah, well Troy and Jeff were quitters too," Danny said.

"No they weren't," Demar stated.

"Well, they wanted to quit," Paul retorted. "Jeff was planning on quitting the shoot and going to college. It was scheduled to begin two days ago. And Troy was sure if Demar let Jeff out of the shoot to go to school then he could be released to become Artie's assistant."

"So by quitting the shoot, Joe became a possible victim," Frank said, paling.

"Who would be affected by one of the models quitting?" Fenton asked, looking at Demar.

"Everyone," Demar admitted. "The other models have to put in longer hours because of the change and that means the make up; photography; and developing departments have to work longer hours as well."

"What about Kenny?" Frank asked. "What kind of effect would this have on him?"

"Kenny?" Demar asked, surprised. "Quite a bit. He has to change the settings, decide which outfits go with which setting and arrange any special on site permits."

"So he has a lot to do?" Frank asked. "You might even say a switch would affect him more than anyone."

"Most likely," Demar affirmed.

"And if the model has agreed to work for his special project, then it might be enough to push him over the edge."

"Special project?" Demar asked, his eyes sharpening as he stared at Frank.

Frank revealed Kenny's "job" offer to Demar. "What?" he sputtered softly, shock robbing him of his normal tone. "I don't believe it," he added, falling to the sofa.

"I'm going to get in touch with Chief Collig and see if they have found out anything about Beverly," Fenton said, more concerned with his son than Kenny's betrayal.

"Where does Kenny live?" Frank asked. Maybe Kenny had Joe.

"He's staying at a bed and breakfast on Maple Street," Demar answered. "He lives in Los Angeles."

"Why did you take an assistant from so far away?" Frank inquired. "And why hasn't he moved here instead of just renting?"

"Maybe we should ask him," Demar suggested rising from the sofa. "Thanks for coming over," he said to Paul and Danny. "Please, don't mention this to anyone just yet."

"I won't," Paul agreed.

"Me either," Danny said, looking at Frank. "I hope you find Joe. I..uh..kind of gave him a hard time." Demar looked at him hard. "I thought he was causing some of the sabotage," Danny confessed. "That's the only reason. Honest," he added, his voice unmistakably sincere.

"Thank you," Frank said. The two models left as Fenton hung up.

"Anything?" Frank inquired.

"She wasn't at home but some of the missing equipment from the studio was found in her apartment," Fenton replied. "Ezra said three were several pictures lying around the place but the ones that were most interesting were the ones she had lying next to an envelope addressed to Raven Gilbert. At the bottom of each photograph was a memo stating the date, time, and title of the design listed. The artist was also labeled. Sebastian Demar."

"Did they find anything that might link her to Joe?" Frank asked.

Fenton shook his head. "But he did find several rolls of undeveloped film. He's going to have Forensics develop them and he'll call on my cell phone if anything helpful comes up. I also asked him to pick up Kenny Parsons for questioning."

"Let's go, then," Frank said, heading for the door. Fenton and Demar followed.

By the time they arrived at the police station, Kenny was already in custody. He was sitting in a chair in the interrogation room, his shoulders slumped forward and his head propped in his hands which rested the table. When Demar and the Hardys entered the room he looked up, hope springing into his eyes but when he saw the grim set to Demar's mouth and the hardness of his eyes, his dejected look returned.

"I haven't done anything," Kenny told Demar. "Nothing. They're saying I'm under suspicion for killing Troy and Jeff. I never!"

"But you would steal my models and use my equipment, to do your own shoot," Demar accused. "If you would do that, why should I believe you didn't kill them?"

"I..I...how did you find out?" Kenny asked.

"Frank Hardy," was the answer.

"Who?" Kenny asked, confused.

"Frank Hardy," Demar repeated, pointing to Frank. "He and his brother, Joe, have been working undercover at the studio to find out who has been sabotaging the shoot and what happened to Troy and Jeff."

"Joe's not a real model?" Kenny asked, a faint smile on his lips. "He's got the body."

"You slime!" Frank snarled, stepping forward but halted by his father. "What have you done with Joe?"

"I haven't done anything with him," Kenny said. "The last time I saw him he was going into Beverly's office. Why? Where is he?"

"Are you saying you really have no idea where he is?" Fenton inquired.

"None," Kenny swore. "You don't think that whoever killed Troy and Jeff have him too, do you?" he demanded, his face showing genuine concern.

"You act like you care," Demar noted.

"I do," Kenny assured him, holding his head up straight and squaring his shoulders. "And the shoot I was doing was for you," he added, looking Demar in the eyes. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Can you prove it?" Frank demanded.

"The layout is at my room at the bed and breakfast," Kenny said. "I had to re-work it after Troy and Jeff left. Then I got Joe in and set it up for him but when he backed out, well, Artie wanted to rework it but I insisted we wait for Joe to heal. He didn't want too. He said Joe would never do the shoot, he wasn't really a model; he didn't have the heart to stick with it. I disagreed with him but Artie insisted if I wanted this shoot done, we work with Danny and Paul and forget about Joe."

"When did you have time to do this?" Fenton inquired. "Joe just quit today."

"After the shoot," Kenny said. "He met me on the way outside and we got into an argument about it." Kenny frowned. "He seemed positive Joe wouldn't be available for the shoot. Matter of fact, he said he wouldn't be surprised if Joe took off just like those other two."

"Fenton," Chief Collig entered the room, some pictures in his hand.

Fenton walked over to stand beside the chief who handed him the pictures. "Where did you get these?" he demanded, looking at the photographs of the two boys in various stages of being tortured.

"These were on one of the undeveloped rolls of film we found at Beverly's residence," he said.

"Beverly is the killer?" he asked, causing everyone to look at him.

"No," Collig denied. "One of the guards at the studio, a friend of your sons, Biff Hooper, found her body in the dumpster behind the building housing her office."

"May I see those?" Demar inquired.

Fenton handed him the pictures. Frank looked over his left shoulder as Kenny gazed over his right. "Artie," breathed Demar and Kenny at the same time.

"What?" Collig demanded, looking at them sharply.

"This is Artie's work," Demar told him. "His work is unmistakable."

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"You don't have to do this," Joe said, swallowing his fear as Artie reached toward Joe and ripped his shirt open. "I...I'll go back to modeling. You won't have to rework anything."

"Looking like this?" Artie demanded. "Bruises on your face and wrists. Your side. You have already been more trouble than Jeff and Troy combined. Oh no. You must suffer. I've put in so much work and you made it all worthless," he leaned down and let the razor blade nip Joe's side where the black and blue bruise was most prominent.

"Aiieee!" Joe screamed. He bit his bottom lip and took a deep breath. "Can't we work something out?" Joe begged. "I could wait here until I heal and then you could...ow!" he shouted as the razor nicked him again.

"I used to wonder how many nicks a person could take before they died," Artie said, nicking Joe's chest repeatedly. "Troy took over five hundred but Jeff held out for almost eight hundred. You look to be in a bit better shape," he continued, nicking Joe again and again in various places. "Don't worry. You'll still be in pictures. I promise to take pictures after every hundredth nick," he added, nicking Joe just above his neck, careful not to hit a major vein or artery.

"Please stop," Joe begged, tears of pain spring to his eyes as Artie nicked his bruised jaw three times in rapid succession.

"Stop your whining," Artie grumbled.

"Then.." Joe began but Artie grabbed Joe's chin.

"You won't shut up," Artie said. "Perhaps if I cut your tongue up, you won't have choice." He lifted the blood soaked razor to Joe's lips and sliced. Joe's mouth opened involuntarily and Artie grabbed Joe's tongue and pulled it from his mouth.

"Let him go!" shouted Chief Collig from the doorway. Artie looked up to see the chief of police, three other officers, Frank, and an older man who looked like Frank enter the room.

"This is my property," Artie informed them haughtily. "Get off of it."

"Not without him," Frank said.

"Forget it!" Artie snarled. "The world will be much better off without this waste of oxygen." He reached for Joe's tongue with the razor, but a shot rang out and Artie screamed, falling backward and clutching his shoulder.

The officers raced forward and quickly took him into custody while Fenton and Frank rushed to Joe's side. "Son," Fenton rasped, his brown eyes reflecting the horror and worry he could not conceal.

"Joe," Frank's breathing was labored as he reached his little brother and began attacking the belts which held him in place.

"An ambulance is on the way," Collig said.

"He killed Beverly," Joe rasped, his lips sore and bleeding.

"We know," Fenton said. "Be quite," he ordered, pulling the now free Joe into his arms. "After the doctor has seen you, then you can tell us about it. But for right now..."

"For right now, just take it easy," Frank finished for his father. "Artie's on his way to jail and he won't be able to get near you again."

"Be..." Joe began but Fenton cleared his throat menacingly and Joe went quite.

"Beverly was behind the sabotage," Frank told Joe as they waited for the ambulance. "And Kenny was doing a shoot for Demar," he continued. "We know Artie killed Troy and Jeff, but we don't know why. Nor do we know why he killed Beverly."

"She.." Joe began but Fenton interrupted him.

"After you've seen the doctor," he ordered his youngest son. "Artie can't hurt anyone now. It can wait."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was three hours later and Joe was comfortably ensconced in a room at Bayport General Hospital. Chief Collig and Officer O'Dell were there as was Demar, Kenny, Frank and Mr. and Mrs. Hardy. Joe had just finished his statement for the police.

"I can't believe it," Mrs. Hardy said. "Killing those poor boys just because he wanted to win another award."

"Paul told me that you are only as good as your last modeling job," Joe said. "I guess Artie felt that way about his photography."

Kenny looked at Joe. "Sebastian is going to let me continue with the shoot I have planned," he said. "I would still like you to be one of the models."

"Sorry," Joe said, shaking his head. "Modeling is too dangerous. I think I'll stick with being a detective."

End


End file.
